


Rescue Me!

by Gleaming_Spires (cuppaktea)



Category: History Boys (2006), History Boys - All Media Types
Genre: Fluff, M/M, literal fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-22
Updated: 2017-11-22
Packaged: 2019-02-05 11:33:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12793683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuppaktea/pseuds/Gleaming_Spires
Summary: Scripps knows it's not a perfect solution, but he's working a lot of nights right now and Posner is lonely. A trip to the local rescue centre might be the answer for them and another lonely soul.





	Rescue Me!

**Author's Note:**

> Fluff, catfluff everywhere. You may need to take allergy medicine, just saying.
> 
> Because Posner and Scripps are sooo cat people and because I should be working. Very un-edited, so if you see any glaring errors I will correct them if you let me know.

 

 

Scripps knows it’s not a perfect solution, but since he started the new job he’s been neglecting David something terrible. He doesn’t mean to but often David’s asleep by the time he gets home and he has to leave before they finish breakfast.

 

Even though David never says anything, Scripps can see how lonely he’s been the past few weeks.

 

It won’t be forever, they both know that, and he can’t get out of pulling long hours when he’s just started. They’d both been prepared for it when he got the job, or at least they thought they had been.

 

He hates how low David’s been these past few weeks, the Prozac has made a big difference and he can’t help but feel guilty that he’s putting him back a step (David denies this is the case, of course, but sometimes the feeling keeps him up at night).

 

It was David who convinced him to go for the job at a much better paper than the last one and it’s his duty, Scripps convinces himself, to come up with something to make it easier on his partner, even if it only helps a little bit.

 

Seeing David animated and smiling as they browse along the rows of expectant faces, he’s glad he hit upon the idea, even if it does turn out to be a stupid plan.

 

“I can’t choose! I feel so guilty.” Pos laughs eventually, after their second walk around. “Is there anyone you like the look of?”

 

“I’d like to choose someone who’s maybe been overlooked before. And I want to make sure we’re the right home for them. I’m gonna ask the woman.”

 

He finds a friendly woman in a bright blue polo shirt who’s mopping up something nasty looking in one of the pens. She shows them into an office where there’s a binder full of laminated colour photographs of all of the cats currently looking for homes.

 

“We both work full time and I’m working a lot of evenings at the moment too.” Don explains as she motions them to take a seat. “Ideally we want someone who likes a bit of fuss, so my partner has some company when I’m out, but not so much that they’d be too lonely during the day.”

 

“I’d rather not get a small kitten.” Pos pipes up. “I’m quite fond of our soft furnishings.”

 

“But not ancient. We’d like to be able to get attached.”

 

She listens carefully and asks them questions about their house and garden and whether they have any other pets or children to consider. After a few minutes they’ve narrowed it down to three.

 

The first, a pretty female tabby, chirrups softly when they enter her pen and winds around Don’s legs. He’s quite taken with her and the feeling is obviously mutual as she rolls over when he tickles behind her ear.

 

“The little tart.” Pos laughs.

 

“This is Tigger, she’s ten. Her owners moved house and couldn’t bring her with them.”

 

He feels sorry for her and she’s so sweet but they were really looking for a pet for David, Don reminds himself, and she hasn’t even noticed him yet. “We’ll meet the all of them before we make a decision.”

 

The second is a handsome ginger who is affectionate and playful. He starts crying for food as soon as the trio of humans enter his pen, but is bright enough to quickly realise they don’t have any, so he goes to each of them for a rub before stretching out on the floor and busying himself untying David’s shoelaces.

 

“This is Tom, he was a stray, we think he’s about a year old and he’s very affectionate and playful, but not destructive so he’d be ideal in a home. He’s been here for three weeks, which is much longer than we expect for such a good-looking, friendly cat.”

 

“Do you think Dakin would ever forgive us if we got a cat called Tom?” David smirks.

 

“Not if we kept saying things to him like: ‘isn’t it annoying when Tom pees on the counter?’ or ‘Tom’s always stopping out at night chasing the birds’.”

 

“It’d be worth it just for that.” David laughs while Tom purrs loudly, apparently not content to be left out.

 

They’ve almost made up their minds to just take him. Don can see David’s more than half convinced he’s the cat for them, but when the lady asks if they still want to see the last cat, they both agree that they did say they wouldn’t make up their minds before they’d met them all.

 

Before they go in she warns them that they’ll have to keep quiet at first, as this one is a bit shy.

 

Scripps can’t see a cat when they walk into the pen, just a large white sheet draped across the far end.

 

The woman crouches down and motions for them to do the same, and produces from her pocket a small packet that crackles under her fingers. After a few seconds, there’s a flick of black fluffy tail from under the sheet and a pair of enormous eyes in a rugby-ball-shaped head emerge, blinking exaggeratedly up at them.

 

The cat waddles, there’s no other word for it, towards the treats and, glancing nervously at the strangers all the time, takes one from her hand.

 

“Would you like to give him one each?” She whispers.

 

He takes them delicately and shuffles a few steps backwards each time before eating them, so he’s out of arms reach.

 

After he’s had a treat from each of them he seems to decide that they aren’t so bad and stretches his front paws out ahead of him, and then his back feet out behind him while he walks around them in circles. David can’t help but laugh.

 

“He looks like he’s entering the silly walks competition.”

 

Don offers his hand and the cat rubs his face on his fingers, but skitters backwards again when Don lifts his hands to pet him on the head.

 

“Oscar’s a bit shy of strangers.” The woman explains. “He’s been with us quite a long time now and most cats find the cattery very stressful. He would definitely come out of his shell more in a home.”

 

As if to emphasise her point Oscar, who has been rubbing one fluffy cheek on David’s knee, puts his front paws up on his leg and head-butts him in the face.

 

“Sorry about that, that’s actually a very friendly sign. He must like you a lot.” She explains, through stifled giggles.

 

“Can you tell us a bit about him?” Scripps laughs while the cat tries to climb onto Pos’ knees. He almost manages it, which is impressive as Pos is squatting and the cat is quite overweight.

 

“He’s about three, we think, and has been with us for five weeks. Sadly, black or black and white cats like Oscar are more often overlooked by potential adopters, we have no idea why. He was found by a neighbour after his elderly owner passed away so we don’t know a lot about him, other than that he’s very affectionate but nervous of new people and things and he likes his food a bit too much. As you can see he is a bit overweight.”

 

Oscar has managed to wedge himself onto David’s bony knees, his back leg the only part unable to fit, and begins purring like a tractor engine at the mention of food.

 

“I don’t know, Pos. It’s up to you really.”

 

“Why don’t you go and have a chat about it and I’ll reserve both Tom and Oscar for today.” The woman suggests.

 

“They’re both such lovely cats.” David says back in the office with the folders on each of them.

 

“Neither of them like other cats according to their files so don’t start thinking we can take them both.” Scripps smiles.

 

David’s fingers toy with the corner of Oscar’s file.

 

“Let's have a read through about Oscar again, love.”

 

He flicks the thin file open. In every picture the light of the flash reflects off the retinas of his wide, frightened eyes so that even the best of them just shows a black and white powder puff with glowing demonic headlights. It’s a contrast to the file on Tom, which is full of pictures of him flirting with the camera, 1950s pinup style.

 

“He needs daily brushing because of his long fur. Apparently, he enjoys that so it’s not a chore. He’s a real lap cat but needs a bit of exercise to keep his weight down. He’s not fond of strangers, they think that’s why he hasn’t caught anybody’s eye yet.”

 

David smiles. “I think it’s going to have to be him. Much as I liked Tom, he doesn’t need us half as much.”

 

Don smiles indulgently at his partner’s sweet nature. “It says they didn’t know his real name so they called him Oscar Wilde. I think it’s a sign.”

 

To his surprise, David wrinkles his nose. “That’ll have to change then. I know three Oscar Wilde Cats already, Hugh in the English department even has an Oscar Wilde rat.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Don’t ask. They make good pets apparently. I agree it’s a sign but he’ll need something more original.”

 

“Something Wilde themed… Ernest maybe?”

 

David hums. “I like it, but he’s not really dignified enough. I was thinking along the lines of something pompous but silly.”

 

Don chuckles. “Windemere?”

 

David’s face lights up. “You sir, are a genius. I think we should let the nice lady know we want to bring Lord Windemere home with us.”

**Author's Note:**

> I did once nearly adopt a cat purely because it had the same name as a friend of mine - think of the hilarity! (much like Oscar, however, a more worthy i.e. pathetic candidate ended up coming home with me).
> 
> Also, if you are thinking of a pet this Xmas, or anytime, there are so many lovely creatures waiting for homes in your local rescue/pound and it doesn't hurt to take a peep.


End file.
